


keep it down

by snotflake



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol, Emetophilia, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, a TEENSY bit of, boys being dudes, no previous feelings, old men falling in love, probably a lot of gross
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 02:19:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12901869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snotflake/pseuds/snotflake
Summary: tentative title. a series of incidents that make them come to conclusions that they don't understand.





	keep it down

**Author's Note:**

> i've only written a handful of fics but i think i'm starting to get the hang of it enough to post and not feel weird about it. http://archiveofourown.org/works/10794801/chapters/23944242 is my previous attempt to start this fic idea, but i took my entire plot, reworked how i wanted to do it, and i'm regurgitating it here. thank you for reading!

Nausea floods through him. That, combined with the too-loud cawing of birds outside wakes him up all but gently. The heavy weight over his waist brings him a little closer to consciousness, and the sharp snore behind him is what makes Ford finally snap his eyes open. 

Few memories trickle back at this point. To celebrate their 50th day out on the sea, they decided to go out on the night. Their evening of mayhem began with checking out the local food vendors, the two of them ensuring they’d be drinking on full stomachs. They also checked into a cheap hotel room closer to the center of town to drop off some clean clothes. In the probable case they got sloshed, they didn't want to drunkenly hobble over a mile back to the boat, possibly covered in their own vomit. 

Deciding on a bar where only about half of the locals spoke English, Ford also warned Stanley to be on his best behavior. He might not be able to talk them out of any misunderstandings Stan would cause. He remembers both he and his brother drinking a bit too much, and a third party, a younger, but handsome man whom they had chatted with occasionally throughout the night, offering to walk them back to their hotel as the bar was about to close. Not remembering much after that, he's understandably concerned.

The body shifts behind him. Oh yeah. He’s pretty sure it’s just Stanley, and he’s less worried about the implications of their current… entanglement, and moreso about ensuring it’s just his brother that’s currently spooning him. At least he’s still wearing clothes. He holds his breath as he tries to peer over his shoulder without waking the, presumed, man. His face meets a mess of silvery hair, and Ford softly breathes a sigh of relief. That’s definitely Stan, currently nuzzling into him like he is some sort of grizzly, old teddy bear.

Another wave of nausea hits him, and he’s quick to pull out of Stan’s embrace. Quickly stumbling into the bathroom and not mentally prepared to vomit, Ford turns on the tap. He splashes some water on his face before bending down and drinking cool water straight from the faucet. A few sips seem to quell his upset insides. He slowly stands up straight, choosing to brace himself on the sink. 

Staring back at him from the mirror is a cranky old man with a few more face crinkles than usual. This is far from the worst hangover he’s had. Sure, he’s a little crusty feeling. He’s old. He feels like that every time he wakes up. The nausea will pass in an hour or so. He still feels a bit tipsy, but he’s confident that he can play it off. 

A desperate knocking on the door startles him, pulling him from his self-depreciative thoughts. He turns to let his brother in, but before Ford can sneak past, Stan’s already head first in the toilet bowl, puking up his guts. He just stands there, shocked still. He wasn’t phased by the retching or anything, he’d met creatures who made more disgusting sounds while just breathing. Wanting to feel useful, he grabs one of the small plastic cups set out for them from the sink and fills it with water.

“Well, I shoulda known better. Tequila never sits right with me.” Stan rests his forehead against the toilet seat. Ford holds the cup out to him and Stan takes it, nodding a thanks. 

“I don’t remember ordering tequila.” There was slight concern in his voice. Ford was always the one in charge of ordering drinks and bringing them back to the table. He knew it wasn’t likely that either of them would be drugged, but being able to quickly test them before drinking put an ease to his paranoia. Stan shakes his head, and visibly regrets it afterwards.

“That one handsome guy bought it. Don’t know why. I mean, looking back, he was DEFINITELY flirting. But eh, not my type." Discomfort washes over his features, "and look where that free drink got me!” He sticks his head in the bowl once more and gags up some bile. Ford is sure this is more due to Stanley drinking a bit too much in general, but he decides to leave it alone. He turns to leave and give his brother some privacy, but Ford sees something out of the corner of his eye. 

“Huh, how on earth did I get a bruise here-- ah.” He tugs on the collar of his shirt to get a better look. There are more “bruises”, two or three, on his neck and collarbone, just above and beneath his shirt collar. Stan grabs the side of the counter and pulls himself up. He wobbles over and squints at the mirror. 

“Oh, I think I did that.” 

Ford stares at Stan’s reflection in horror and watches the seven stages of grief pass over his brother’s face as he considered what he just said. Ford’s in shock, Stanley looks like he wants to say something and he hopes to god it’s something good. Stan composes himself, clearing his throat.“...I mean I musta hit ya somehow. I remember you having to halfway carry me back because I didn’t want to get a taxi, sorry ‘bout that.” 

Ford lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Stan sounded pretty confident. “Yeah, I’m sure it was something like that.” He pauses, straightening his collar and averting his eyes from Stanley’s own, nervous gaze. “But it’s quite alright, it wasn’t that far of a walk and we were perfectly safe doing so.” He chooses to forget about the bruises for now, as well as the manner in which he woke up. He hums to himself. ”Hey, doesn’t this place have free breakfast?” 

Stan almost immediately lights up at this, and pats his now emptied stomach contemplatively. “You know, I think I could go for that!”

**Author's Note:**

> future chapters will be longer, i'm just testing the waters! let me know if u want to beta or have any tips! esp with sentence structure and pacing. tear it the heck UP


End file.
